They ceased talking. I turned to continue toward the mess tent and jumped in surprise. Tomas stood in the shadows only four feet away. His frown was so deep I could see it in the dim light from the men’s fire.
I opened my mouth to explain, but he shook his head sharply. Grabbing my arm, he half-dragged me back to our tent. He barely paused to untie the flaps before pushing me through them. Following and pulling the canvas closed behind him, he then rounded on me with a glare.
Sudden awareness of his size hit me. He weighed two of me, was mostly muscle, and lived by his reflexes. Still fully armed and partially geared for the battlefield, he towered over me with anger contorting his normally controlled features.
“Where is Dentin? Why isn’t he with you?”
“There was an argument over sleeping arrangements. He had to mediate.”
“So you wandered off?”
I straightened my shoulders out of habit. “I was hungry. Last time you told me to fetch my own dinner.”
“Last time you weren’t accused of treason. I don’t know what Dentin was thinking. If it happens again, find one of us.”
“I cannot be trusted alone?”
“Not if you are going to do such foolish things as obvious eavesdropping.”
Shame flooded my face with heat, but I ignored it and fed my rising indignation instead. “I was listening to a gossipy conversation about me, hardly a state secret.”
The anger in his eyes didn’t even flicker. “I know that. You know that. There is no guarantee a king’s agent who spots you lingering in the shadows will report that detail along with your suspicious behavior.”
I hadn’t considered that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking that way.”
“You better begin.”
I winced at his tone.
He closed his eyes as he labored to slow his breathing. Gradually his fingers relaxed and his head fell forward so his chin lowered toward his chest. He still didn’t open his eyes. “You scared me.”
“You feared I was a spy for Orwin after all?”
His eyes opened, dark and vulnerable. “No.” He stepped close so that I had to look up to meet his gaze. His bare hands slipped up to bracket my face, calloused palms brushing my cheeks and fingers lacing through my rioting hair. “I feared losing you.” His thumb stroked the tender skin beneath the corner of my mouth. My senses focused on the delicate pressure. Warmth infused his gaze enticing an answering heat in my cheeks.
I was at a loss as to how to respond. “I am sorry.”
He leaned in and kissed me. My hands found his forearms as my balance shifted.
“Where have you two been?” Dentin demanded as he swept the canvas aside. He strode into the tent, pulled off his gloves and tucked them in his belt. “I thought you said you were going to keep the physical affection to a minimum.”
Resting his forehead against mine, Tomas took a deep breath. “This is our tent.” He released my face and stepped back to confront Dentin. Apparently unwilling to completely break our connection, he pulled me up against him with a possessive hand on my hip. “What do you want?”
“I was dealing with an issue among my usual troublemakers when a messenger from the king arrived with a missive for you. I figured you would want to know about it.” He tossed a thin parchment packet on the table.
Tomas released me to pick it up. He tilted it toward the lantern to read the address better before opening it. As my husband read the contents by the light of the lantern, I grew aware that Dentin was eyeing me.
Once he had my attention, he nodded toward the space outside the tent opening. “The men nearby were leery of disturbing you two because it sounded as though you were having a marital row a bit ago. I was surprised to find you two so pleasantly engaged.”
“Not that a fight would have stopped you,” I pointed out in an effort to avoid the question. It wouldn’t help matters to drag my foolishness out before Dentin. I doubted he would be as forgiving as Tomas.
“I wasn’t about to wait all night to find out the contents of that.” He nodded toward where Tomas was frowning at the letter.
“Messages from the king aren’t expected?”
“Not personally addressed to Tomas with the king’s personal seal.”
Tomas muttered what sounded like a curse. “Dentin, read this and tell me it doesn’t say what I think it does.” He shoved the three pages of parchment into Dentin’s hands. “He can’t be serious.”
Dentin moved to stand in the light so he could read it. Tomas began pacing. I suspected it had something to do with me, but I wasn’t inclined to wait.
“What do you think it says?” I asked as Tomas strode past.
“Mendal wants me to have you under constant guard between here and Kyrenton, and in chains when left alone.”
Dentin grimaced as he flung the letter onto the table. “He will grow as paranoid as Trentham at this rate. She is accused of collusion not attempted assassination.”
“I will not chain her. She has done nothing wrong.”
Dentin nodded. “I recommend you bring in the irons as though you intend to comply and don’t use them.”
“And the guard within sight at all times? Does he not trust me?”
Dentin smirked. “He does not trust you with her. He knows your weakness. He suspects you do not see beyond your marriage oath to her and hers to you.”
“What does he want me to do? Forget I am married to her? Forget that our informant’s word is suspect? Forget that she has proven her loyalty repeatedly?” Tomas’ strides grew swifter with each query.
“Her loyalty to you, not the king.” Dentin’s voice was almost a whisper in contrast to Tomas’ rising tones
Tomas rounded to confront his friend. “In my mind it is the same.”
Growing weary of being discussed in my presence, I spoke up. “The point is that it isn’t the same in his mind and he is the king.”
Two surprised faces turned my way. As I suspected they had forgotten I was there.
“I am willing to submit to the king’s instructions.”
Tomas opened his mouth to protest, but Dentin spoke first.
“The chains will be here in an hour. There is no need to use them within the tent walls. I will see that my men guard your tent. You will not be disturbed and the king cannot accuse you of disobedience if my men vouch for your compliance.” He turned to Tomas. “But, whatever happens, don’t let her leave your sight.”
He stalked out through the canvas flaps without a word of farewell and began calling for his second-in-command. As Dentin’s voice faded into the distance, I turned to find Tomas watching me with weary eyes.
“You shouldn’t have to do this.”
“Life is full of shoulds and shouldn’ts, but fighting for them to become reality isn’t always the wisest course. I prefer to pick my battles with care. This is one I choose not to fight.”
He ran his hands through his hair and massaged his scalp. “Are you going to insist on wearing the chains?”
“No.”
He crossed to claim my hands. Running his thumbs across the inside of my wrists, he gazed deep into my eyes. “Good. I am not sure I could tolerate you in chains.”
“My Lord Irvaine?” a male voice queried from outside.
“What is it now?” Tomas muttered as he turned away. He pressed through the flaps.
Mindful of my new status of prisoner, I retreated toward the far corner where my gear had been slung. Suddenly all I desired was food and sleep. The memory of falling asleep in Tomas’ arms brought warmth and uneasy anticipation. I ignored the inevitable awkwardness to come and focused on checking my gear.
Anise and Loren had assumed the responsibility of preparing my kit while I was being presented to the king. Three tunics, sturdy woolen leggings and a choice of two solid colored surcoats burst free from the leather satchel. They fell across my lap in a mass of burgundy, navy, and cream, Loren’s favorite colors. I recognized
the lace I gave her five years ago carefully stitched to the flared sleeves of the burgundy tunic. Her best clothes sacrificed for a rough journey. “Oh, Loren, you shouldn’t have,” I whispered. My throat swelled with unshed tears so it hurt to swallow. Stroking the cloth’s edge, I vowed I would replace them with garments twenty times better.
“Lord Dentin ordered our dinner be brought to us.” Tomas slid a heavily laden tray onto the table. “The other items will arrive in an hour or so. They have to find them.” He began unloading the crocks and jugs. “Are you hungry?” He turned in time to catch me wiping away an escaped tear.
Without a word he crossed to me, dropped to his knees, and pulled me into his arms. The gentle caress of his rough hands as he guided my head to his shoulder brought more tears flooding forth. I pressed my face into the solid warmth of him and released weeks of pent up homesickness in a deluge of tears.
I could never go back. Loren had a family of her own now. I was married to Tomas. Loren and I were both ruled by duties, commitments, and separate lives. Now our treasured moments sitting together before a winter fire, exchanging laughter and girlish confidences, would become only cherished memories. Could a countess and a commoner relate over such confidences? My struggles with treason, politics, and marriage to a powerful man with complicated loyalties seemed so different from our old worries of weather, getting harvest in before the rains came, and conserving every last drop of each bottle of father’s wine.
“Hush.” His lips brushed my forehead. “You don’t even have to see them. I’ll hide them under the bed. You won’t even know they are there.”
“No.” I pushed away so I could see his face. “It isn’t the chains. I am just homesick for a simpler time.” I swiped at the tears still slipping down my cheeks. “It didn’t seem so simple then, but I wish I could go back to when my greatest worry was the gophers or whether the wheat would come up in the spring.”
He caught a tear as it dripped from my chin. “I wish for the days when all I focused on was besting Brevand in our next bout, a far cry from my concerns of the past few years.”
“Brevand?” I blinked away the last of the moisture. My face felt bloated as it usually did after crying.
Tomas smiled. It transformed his face. Lightening his usual brooding stare and giving me a glimpse of what he might have looked like in younger days. The likeness to Darnay was astonishing.
“In the beginning Brevand had the advantage of early training. I only possessed an unquenchable desire to prove myself. Everyone looked down on me because my mother refused to identify my father. Sir Fortwin saw beyond my birth and treated me as though I was of equal worth as the rest of those in his service. I strove to be worthy of that regard.
“In the first bout, Brevand trounced me so badly I ached for days.”
I wondered at the transformation of his features as he told his story. I kept getting glimpses of a young boy desperate to prove himself worthy of the potential Sir Fortwin saw in him.
“He didn’t stop after you went down?”
“I refused to give up until I couldn’t stand and lift my sword. Three days later we had our second face-off. He defeated me again. By the second week, he still whipped me in the practice yard, but I actually got a score in once in a while. It took me three years before I finally won a match.”
“And now?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We haven’t faced each other over crossed weapons in a long time.” Sadness clouded his eyes as he seemed to recall the betrayal that now stood between them.
“Brevand saved the women’s lives when Orwin set fire to the lord’s hall.”
“He was still there?”
I nodded, avoiding Tomas’ suddenly hopeful gaze. As much as I wanted Brevand’s contrition to be a sign of complete repentance, I doubted it. I recalled that flare of anger in his gaze when we first met. A man who despises the good fortune of his friend is not a friend.
“I had Captain Eirianware confine him to one of the cottages until your return. I don’t know what happened after that. For all I know, Eirianware left him there.”
“I will check with him tomorrow. Eirianware is a good man. I am sure he secured Brevand.”
“Won’t Mendal want to determine his fate?”
“Possibly, but I would prefer dealing with him myself. Mendal, when he is in this mood, would sentence him to death without much thought.”
I frowned at his wording. “Mendal has been like this before?”
“Right before he started his campaign to take the throne, even the most mundane things became secrets. He lived in fear that something would be discovered before the time was right to move openly against the other feuding nobles. Ironic, isn’t it? Now he fears someone will do the same against him.”
“Why did you support him?”
His brows lowered and he avoided my gaze. “Foolish idealism and a touch of desire to change the world.”
I took a deep breath and asked the question that had been burning in my head since I met Mendal. “I don’t know much about either king, but I am curious. Do you think Mendal is better than Trentham?”
I expected him to brush off the question, avoid it, or change the subject. Instead, he answered me.
“Then, I believed Mendal would be better. Now, my perception isn’t as simplistic. Trentham was a good king until he went sick with paranoia, killing at random for nonsensical reasons. He left no sons or daughters so the succession was bound to be tumultuous even if the rebellion hadn’t toppled him first.”
I didn’t realize how bad the government had been. Tucked up in the northeast, Wisenvale was isolated from the political gossip. “So Mendal didn’t begin the rebellion?”
“I wouldn’t have supported him if he had.” Tomas focused on tucking a trailing curl behind my ear. “Trentham’s favorites, the elite ranks of nobles he began executing randomly, tried to seize control. They would have succeeded if they could’ve agreed on a leader.”
“So Mendal stepped in after the chaos began.”
Tomas nodded. “I still believe Mendal can be a good king. Up until now he has proven to be wise and practical, but this recent plot and its aftermath shook his confidence in his allies, friends, and his ability to judge character. He must have believed Lord Wisten’s drivel more than Dentin and I suspected.”
Suddenly my position appeared even more hopeless. “How am I going to convince Mendal I am not a traitor if he is questioning everyone’s loyalty?”
Tomas stroked the back of his fingers along my cheek, tracing my jaw. “Dentin is working on it.”
“You are putting a lot of trust in Lord Dentin.”
“Yes, I am. He is worthy of it.” He caught my chin, guiding it so we were almost nose to nose.
I frowned and refused to lift my gaze to meet his. I didn’t appreciate my life depending on the skills of a man I only just met. For all I knew he was going to do nothing and let me die a traitor’s death.
“Brielle, do you trust me?”
I resisted the temptation to pull my chin from his grip, but I still didn’t look up. “To a point.” I studied his jaw instead. Covered in the beginnings of a beard, I wondered how it would feel to my fingers.
“Brielle.” He almost growled my name in frustration. “Look at me and tell me the truth.”
Without thought, I obeyed. “I do trust you, but I don’t like sitting around waiting for someone else to rescue me.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
His gaze fell to my mouth, where his fingers traced my bottom lip distracting me from my question. “I am entrusting him with one of the most valuable parts of my life.”
Before I could figure out an appropriate response, he caught my mouth with his own and drove all thoughts from my head.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two and a half days later we arrived outside Kyrenton’s outer wall. Over that time, Tomas and Dentin’s men be
came a single army. Camping, eating, sleeping, riding, and training together, camaraderie formed among the ranks. The relationship among the leadership was a bit rougher.
“I have to do what?” Rathenridge demanded from just outside Tomas’ tent door.
“I want you to send scouts into the city.” Dentin’s clipped tones cut through the canvas as though it was nothing.
I slipped to the door and lifted the flap slightly. In the center of the common area beyond the tent walls, the two men were standing on opposite sides of a camp table spread with maps.
Rathenridge glared at Dentin over his crossed arms and adjusted his stance slightly. “Why my men?”
“You have been in the city before.” Dentin pronounced each word with precise care as though the reason were obvious. “Your men know the layout better than mine.”
“My men are known by the inhabitants.”
Dentin raised an eyebrow, his face showing none of the weariness I would expect. “Not all of them. Surely some haven’t managed to gain a reputation yet.”
Rathenridge rose to the bait. “How dare you slur the good name of good men!”
“What is the issue?” Tomas asked as he approached. Exhaustion marred his face in dark circles beneath his eyes. Lack of appetite had eaten away at his cheeks leaving them thin. He leaned over the table between the men and studied the map between his supporting hands. He blinked it into focus while Rathenridge smirked at Dentin over his head.
“You missed a gate here and the postern gate there.” Tomas pointed to two spots on the map. “I recommend the scouts enter by the western gate. We don’t have the men to surround the city until the king arrives. I see no reason to block the traffic through there until then. Waiting won’t change much considering their stored food. If anything, it helps. There will be fewer innocents to get in the way if they run first. Besides, it makes it a prime spot for infiltration.”
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 19
